


Are we okay with touching now?

by Brosequartz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Based on 2 comics by glysaturn (links in the summary), Fanwork of Fanwork, M/M, McGenji Week, McGenji Week 2018, but then later he decides maybe he is ready, first genji's not okay with being touched, this is veeeery late but its for the day 7 prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 17:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15823461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brosequartz/pseuds/Brosequartz
Summary: At first, Genji hated being touched. But at some point, he came to trust McCree.Based on 2 comics by glysaturn on tumblr, for the McGenji Week 2018 "fanwork of fanwork" prompt! (Links to them are in the notes.)





	Are we okay with touching now?

**Author's Note:**

> The comics this is a fic of:   
> http://glysaturn.tumblr.com/post/170050998637/its-a-maybe-i-just-love-mccrees-hair   
> http://glysaturn.tumblr.com/post/173355056222/hes-in-heaven-and-now-he-doesnt-want-to-let-go
> 
> This is going up very very late because a Thing came up 2 days before the last day of mcgenji week this year and then if this was gonna be late anyway I decided to add the second comic (originally I was only gonna do one, and had narrowed it down to these two to decide between). 
> 
> A big thanks to the wonderful glysaturn for blessing the mcgenji community <3

Genji didn’t like to be touched. He hated it. Ever since Hanzo had tried to kill him, no one had touched him but doctors, and even that made him sick to his stomach. Those touches were clinical, impersonal. He felt detached from them, just as he felt detached from his own body. He wished he could be literally detached from it, though. Then he wouldn’t be in constant agony from his still-healing wounds. Then maybe he would be able to sleep. Or not. It wasn’t just pain that kept him awake, after all. He had nightmares, mostly about his brother, but some about the Shimada clan elders, some about dragons, and some completely unintelligible.

He didn’t always scream when they woke him up. But the times he did, the way McCree looked at him the morning after made him want to curl up and die. Their rooms in the Blackwatch barracks were right beside each other, and he knew McCree could hear him when he screamed in his sleep. Genji hated it. 

The first time it had happened, shortly after he moved from the infirmary to the barracks, Jesse had tried to put his hand on Genji’s shoulder in the morning, with a gentle murmur of concern.

Genji had flinched away. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed. Jesse pulled his hand back, a look of shock on his face. Was it really that much of a surprise that Genji didn’t want to be touched? His body was repulsive. The thought of someone else putting their hands on it filled him with shame.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t thankful for the prosthetics that allowed him to walk again, or the fact that Overwatch’s doctors had saved his life. But his body was hideous, there was no denying it. He couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror, and felt bad for the people who had to look at him every day. Even if they did a good job hiding it, there was no way they weren’t disgusted by what they saw. Somehow they ignored it and worked with him anyway. McCree most of all.

McCree and Genji were partners, and spent more time with each other than anyone else. They spent training, missions, meetings, and meals together, and even used the same bathroom in the barracks. Not that Genji used it all that much. Showering wasn’t exactly the most effective way of cleaning himself anymore. Even if it was, he didn’t think he could bring himself to use the communal showers. In any case, he saw McCree a lot, and was continually perplexed by how friendly he was to Genji.

McCree made no secret of the fact that he liked Genji. Even after Genji had hissed at him like an angry cat, he didn’t let up on his friendliness or his respectful attitude. He didn’t act like the exchange had never happened, though. He didn’t touch Genji, and it was clear he was making a conscious effort not to, given the physical affection he showed to many of their fellow agents. He was always clapping people on the back, punching them in the shoulder, elbowing them in the side after telling a joke. He did none of that to Genji, and Genji was grateful.

Genji could exist near McCree without worrying that his boundaries would be violated. It made it easier to relax, easier to work, easier to breathe. They worked well together, which was reflected in their mission results. Genji found himself able to unwind around McCree, something he wouldn’t have thought he’d ever be able to do again. Right after he had been rebuilt, his entire body felt like a live wire, like he could never stop moving, never close his eyes. But around McCree it was somehow possible. 

It had been months since Genji had joined Blackwatch when the two of them were relaxing in the Blackwatch agents’ common room, each of them leaning back against one of the couch’s arms, Genji’s legs drawn up to himself and McCree’s stretched out in front of him. McCree had put on some old movie he had wanted to see, and his head was turned towards the tv against the back wall, watching it. Genji was watching McCree. And thinking.

“McCree,” he said.

“Yeah?” McCree responded, not looking away from the tv.

“Would you consider us to be friends?” Genji asked.

McCree turned towards him. “Well, of course I would!” he said with a grin. “Wouldn’t you?”

Genji gave a small smile. Then, realizing McCree couldn’t see it, he quickly added, “I would.”

McCree’s grin grew even wider. “Well then, my friend,” he said, “why don’t I go make us some more popcorn.” 

Genji laughed. He hadn’t eaten a single piece of popcorn, as he didn’t want to take off his faceplate or get it stuck in his prosthetic jaw. He hadn’t explained that to McCree, but the cowboy hadn’t pressed him after he declined the first offer. McCree got up, picked the empty bowl up off the floor next to him, and headed over to the kitchenette on the other side of the common room.

When McCree returned, he sat down with a grunt and blew a lock of hair out of his face. “Enjoying the movie?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Genji. He hadn’t been paying attention to it. McCree chuckled and turned his attention back to the tv.

Genji liked being able to exist in the same space as McCree like this. When he was around other people he always felt like he was making them uncomfortable, with his appearance, with his sullen demeanor, with his silence. But McCree for some reason never looked at him like he was disgusting, never let Genji’s mood rub off on him, and filled the silence himself without any awkwardness.

McCree talked a lot. Genji liked it. It meant he didn’t have to say much, and he could just listen quietly. McCree had lots of stories to tell, about his time in Deadlock or in Blackwatch before Genji had joined. 

Even when they were exhausted, McCree had the energy to carry a conversation. They were walking back to their quarters after a mission one day when it really hit Genji how much he treasured McCree’s friendship. As they walked, he was talking about something Genji was too tired to follow, but the sound of his voice was soothing nevertheless.

“Have I ever told you about the time when…” McCree began a new story, and Genji smiled behind his mask. McCree’s face was so animated as he talked, and Genji liked to watch him. That lock of hair fell in front of his face again, and Genji reached out and tucked it behind his ear. 

“You and your stupid hair,” he said gruffly.

McCree stopped in his tracks, and his eyebrows flew up. “Are we okay with touching now?” He asked, his face breaking into a grin.

Genji’s eyes widened, and he shoved his hands into McCree’s face to turn it away from him, glaring. McCree’s grin didn’t falter, however.

“Is this a yes or no?” he asked, not resisting.

Genji wasn’t sure. Was it a yes? Was he okay with touching now? He frowned. He turned around and dashed away.

Genji found himself at the training range. He casually got out his shurikens for some aim practice, and thought. It occurred to him it might have hurt McCree’s feelings that he had run away without answering him. But then again, it probably hadn’t. McCree understood him. He would know that Genji wasn’t slighting him, but just needed some time alone. He trusted McCree to know that.

He trusted McCree…

Genji dashed at one of the training bots, slicing it in two with his sword. He breathed heavily as he watched it reassemble itself, and wobble away with a tinny “Ow!” He straightened up and sheathed his sword. 

It had been dusk when he arrived at the practice range, and the sky was dark now. He checked the clock and started. He had been here for much longer than he thought. He hurried back to the Blackwatch barracks, but found the lights were off in McCree’s room. It wasn’t that late, but the mission they had just returned from had been exhausting. As Genji returned to his own room, he realized just how tired his own body felt, or what was left of it. His stint at the training range couldn’t have helped, even if he had mostly used his right arm. He collapsed on his bed and somehow fell asleep almost immediately despite the aches in his muscles.

Genji woke to soft sunlight filtering in through his blinds. He’d forgotten to close them. But the light didn’t bother him, he felt well-rested enough to get up. He rolled out of bed and stretched, rubbing his sore arm absentmindedly. He had to talk to McCree, but it was early, and he was probably still asleep.

Sure enough, McCree’s door was closed and the room was dark. Genji returned to his own room, and paced the floor for a while, thinking. What did he want? To touch McCree’s hair again? A hug? Or… for McCree to know he trusted him? For him to know what his friendship meant to Genji? He huffed, and stopped pacing, running his right hand through his hair. Maybe what exactly he wanted didn’t matter that much. Not right now, at least.

He heard a door open.

Genji dashed out into the hall, to see McCree coming out of his room, a surprised expression on his face.

“Where’s the fire?” McCree asked, “You seem in an awful hurry.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” said Genji, standing up straighter. 

“Oh?” McCree stepped all the way into the hall, and closed his door behind him. “What about?”

“I-” Genji faltered. What if he wasn’t ready? What if being touched made him want to throw up again? He clenched his fists at his sides. McCree waited patiently, not prompting him to continue. He understood. He would understand.

“I think,” Genji continued, “that I am okay with touching now.”

McCree’s face broke into a smile. “Really?” he asked. That smile was like a ray of sunlight, and Genji felt himself relax, a little less doubtful.

“Yes,” he replied, feeling more sure of himself than he had a moment ago. 

McCree raised his arms slowly in an invitation. Genji stepped forward. 

It was the best hug of Genji’s life. He couldn’t remember a hug ever feeling as good as this one did. McCree’s arms were strong but gentle, and they felt warm and solid around him. Genji’s eyes widened, and he felt a flush rise to his cheeks. He hadn’t expected it to feel this nice.

It had been ages since anyone but a doctor had touched him, and he had almost forgotten what a personal, affectionate touch felt like. He felt his tension and discomfort melting away in McCree’s arms, and he wanted to stay there forever.

He half expected McCree to eventually say something like “Sorry Genji, but I need to brush my teeth now” or to try and pry himself out of Genji’s grasp, but he didn’t. Insead, he reached down and lifted Genji’s legs, guiding him to wrap them around his waist, and carried on, walking around the base with the cyborg wrapped around him for what felt like hours. 

Genji felt so happy he could cry. It wasn’t like he felt unsafe most of the time, but being in McCree’s arms felt like a different kind of safety. Here was someone he trusted with his life, who earned that trust every day, holding him like he was the most important thing in the world. Maybe being in his body wasn’t the worst. His muscles ached, but he was glad he could feel it, glad he could feel McCree’s arms around him.


End file.
